Moonlight and Ashes (14 page)

‘Especially you and Tomi,' said Max, smiling at Olga. ‘He really took to the pair of you, anyone could see that.'

Olga snorted but I noticed the look she gave Tomi. She was starting to get fond of the little boy despite herself, I thought, and if he ever realises that – if he understands she has no intention of hurting him, then she'd have no
hold over him and we would be in danger. But I said nothing about this.

Instead I remarked, ‘We've got to wait, Olga, we really do, at least until we're well out of this town. Don't you see?'

‘Very well,' said Olga, crossly tossing her head. ‘As you wish.'

But she moved away to the far side of the wagon with Tomi, as far away as she could from the patients, and glared at them as if she thought the poor wretches might rise up and deliberately breathe sickness all over her and the child. Watching her, I remembered something I'd read once about werewolves fearing sickness – both human and wolf strains – much more than the silver bullet of the bounty hunter. For the rumoured efficacy of silver bullets was just that – a rumour – and hunters could be outrun, while sickness was a very real threat which even the fastest creature might not outrun. They feared it much more than a forest trap or a spell, for though both could be avoided by cunning and care, sickness could not. I knew then not only how brave it was of Olga to stay there when every nerve must be screaming at her to go, but also how much it was the memory of Andel's certainty that kept her there despite it all. Andel, who said he'd always been on the side of the hunted, not the hunter: and who would never have dreamed that, in her case, those words had much more than the usual meaning.

And what of Sister Claudia? She, too, had instinctively taken the side of the hunted against the hunter. She'd shielded strangers she'd never laid eyes on before. Was that due just to her charitable calling, the fact she saw it as her
duty to care for the wretched of this sad world? Unlikely, I thought. Her charity and courage were real and came from the heart, just like Andel's. We had been truly blessed, I thought, and for the first time in years, I offered up a silent prayer of thankfulness.

Time passed and we fell silent. Sister Claudia might not have looked strong enough to be a capable driver of such a big vehicle, but in fact she was, and the steady slow pace of the horses was very soothing. I could feel my eyelids closing. I will lie down just for a moment, I thought. I'd hardly had any sleep, after all, and I'd been up so early . . .

A voice hissed in my ear, ‘Sister, sister.'

Pulled rudely out of a delicious doze, I looked, startled, into a face very close to mine – a face as bony and white as a skull, with brown eyes set deep in their hollows and framed by grey hair like bits of withered moss. Her hands, like claws, were clenched tight. An old, old woman – or maybe just ravaged by the illness, whatever it was, that was eating at her. Though I still believed what I'd told Olga before – that we had nothing to fear from these people – I still couldn't help my skin crawling.

‘Sister Claudia's outside. Do you want me to –'

‘No. You.' The voice was raw and the words came with an effort.

I looked around wildly. Everyone else seemed to be asleep. ‘What is it?' I said.

She unclenched one of her hands. In it lay the compass Andel had given us. She said, weakly, ‘It rolled out of your bag, sister.'

‘Oh, right.' Max had had the knapsack in his lap, but sleep must have loosened his hold, for it now lay at my feet. I took the compass from her. Her skin felt dry and as insubstantial as rice paper. ‘Thank you.'

Now the brown eyes fixed on mine and suddenly I could see a spark of light deep within, like the last embers of a dying fire.

‘So few of us left, little sister,' she whispered. ‘And you the only young one I have met in such a long time.'

I stared at her. The bottom of my stomach seemed to drop away. I said, feebly, ‘I don't understand what you –'

She touched my wrist where the pulse throbbed, her eyes searching my face. ‘The moon-blood speaks sweet in you, sister. I hear it.'

I'd known it would happen one day; I'd known I'd meet another of my kind sometime, somewhere, even though I'd not wished for it. I whispered, ‘I don't know . . . anything about . . .'

She tried to raise herself up a little, her eyes fixed on my face. ‘Do you want to know, little sister?'

I nodded.

She gave a deep sigh. ‘Then you must go to Dremda. In the forest.'

I'd never heard of this place. The only place I knew of in the forest lands was my mother's village, Stromsa. But I had never been there.

‘How far is it to –'

‘That doesn't matter. You must go. You must go to Dremda and speak with Thalia.' She gripped my wrist. ‘Little sister, this is not just important for you. It is for us all. Please, you must promise you will go. You must speak with Thalia.'

I was about to explain that I couldn't go to the forest and speak with whoever this Thalia person was – another moon-sister, no doubt – because right now I was bound for Silver Harbour with my friends. But her desperate eyes pleaded so much in that poor ravaged face that I could not bring myself to refuse her.

Quietly, I said, ‘Very well, I promise I will go.'
One day
, I added to myself
.

She smiled then. It lit up her face so sweetly that for an instant I could clearly see the pretty young girl she had once been. Her thin fingers reached out and stroked my hand very softly like the merest touch of a butterfly's wings, and she whispered, ‘Then you will be on the right path, little sister, and have brought peace to my heart.' Then quite suddenly the light went out of her face and I knew she was dead.

Gently, I closed her eyes, and whispered a prayer for the repose of her soul. I could not be sorry she had gone, for she was so very ill, and it seemed merciful to me that she had been taken in a moment of joy and peace. No, I could not regret that. But I was sorry that in my confusion I had not asked her name, or what had brought her to this sad
end, dying amongst strangers in a hospice wagon. And I was sorry I had not had time to ask her about my mother. Had she known her long ago? I would never know that now, or anything else about my mother's people.

Unless I did as I had said I would and went to Dremda, wherever that was, and saw this Thalia, whoever she was. Part of me wanted that more than anything. For better or worse, I had to know who I really was. I had to understand what being a moon-sister really meant. I could not turn my back on it till I knew that. But another part of me shrank from it, and knew, too, that this was not the right time. For how could I do it, and help Max? The forest lands were nowhere near Silver Harbour but were, in fact, in the wrong direction. And it was in Almain and the professor that Max had pinned all his hopes. I loved him. I had promised to help and could not turn my back on him now. Yet, I must also keep my promise to the dead woman. Later, I thought, later, when things are resolved, maybe then I'll have time. When things are resolved! Who was I fooling? Max might believe truth and justice would out, but I was not so naive. Truth was as nothing beside power and justice in the hands of the powerful; and against the empire and the Mancers, poor Max had no power at all. But even knowing that, I could not abandon him any more than I could tell him I thought he had no chance.

He woke a short time later. I told him about the woman dying, but I didn't tell him what she'd said or that she'd been a moon-sister. I only said that I had held her hand and that she'd died in peace. It was true enough, but I felt a little guilty when he hugged me tight and whispered, ‘That is a great kindness you did for the poor soul.'

‘Anyone would have done it,' I muttered. ‘It just so happened I was the only one awake.'

‘Sister Claudia will want to know of her passing,' he whispered, ‘and I will tell her, if you don't mind sitting here.'

‘Of course I don't,' I whispered back. He gave me a smile and crawled to the opening in the canvas, undid the flap and slipped out.

But he did not come back for quite a while. I couldn't help but wonder what was happening, as the wagon kept going at the same steady pace. And then it stopped and everyone woke up.

‘What is matter?' Olga said sharply.

‘Nothing.'

I thought that if she was so frightened of illness, then the knowledge that someone had died would terrify her. It was better to say nothing. The dead woman looked as if she were asleep.

Sister Claudia appeared at the opening with Max behind her. Addressing me and Olga, she said, calmly, ‘We are going to have a short stop. I need to check on my patients. You may go out, have a snack and take some fresh air. It's quite safe as long as you keep out of sight,' she added.

‘That will be most welcome!' I exclaimed. ‘Won't it, Olga?'

‘Yes,' said Olga, quickly, and followed me out, as did Tomi (no doubt because he saw I had taken the knapsack with its cargo of sandwiches with me).

It was a grey day outside, overcast with heavy clouds. And we were deep in the countryside. There were fields on
the right side of the road with more fields on the left sloping upwards to a patch of woodland in the distance. Close by was a huddle of houses clustered around a little church.

‘Let's go for a walk,' I said.

Olga looked at me as though I were mad. ‘Didn't you hear what she said – to keep out of sight?'

Max said, quickly, ‘I think it's a good idea to be out of . . . earshot.'

Olga shrugged. ‘As you wish. Let's go then, Tomi.'

The child suddenly burst into speech. ‘No, I am not going!'

It was the first time he had spoken to any of us and we were taken aback. He stood there in the road with his arms folded, glaring at us, his cheeks red, trying to make himself look taller. It was oddly touching.

‘You have to come, Tomi,' Max said.

He stared at Max, his bottom lip trembling. And I realised what was wrong. He had misinterpreted our intentions and imagined we were going to lead him into the fields or the woods to kill him.

‘Don't worry,' I said gently. ‘We are just going for a walk, truly. No-one's going to hurt you.'

Baffled, Max said, ‘But whoever said that we –'

‘I promise, Tomi,' I cut in. ‘We intend you no harm. And as soon as we can let you go, we will. Do you understand?' I spoke the words while a part of me was aghast at what I was revealing to the boy.

Tomi's eyes searched my face, then he nodded silently.

We walked a little further down the road away from the village, Tomi now following without protest. Looking over my shoulder, I saw Sister Claudia had clambered down
from the wagon and was heading purposefully into the church. She would want the priest to give the last rites over the dead, I thought. All the more reason to make ourselves scarce so I quickly said, ‘Tell you what, how about sitting over there, in that nice grassy ditch? It's a good spot to eat our sandwiches.'

No sooner said than done. We sat in the soft long grass, hidden from view by the high banks of the ditch, and started on some of the sandwiches Andel had prepared for us. And then Max, who'd been deep in thought, startled us all by saying, ‘Tomi, it is time you knew something. I am innocent, and I will prove it. I know your people, I know the Mancers. I know they are honourable and that they try hard to protect the empire. So I do not blame your people for locking me up because I know they have been told lies.'

Everyone stopped eating and stared. I thought, baffled, after all the Mancers were going to do to him, that's what he thinks? Of course, his father was on the Mancer Council, so he was probably used to thinking of them differently to me, but surely, now . . . But I said nothing, and neither did Olga, though her mouth hung open.

Tomi whispered, uncertainly, ‘But you are bad people.'

‘No, Tomi, we are not.'

Tomi jerked his head at Olga and burst out, the words pouring from him in a flood, ‘Maybe not you – and . . . and her –' he gestured at me – ‘but that other one – she is . . . she is a wicked thing! A werewolf. She said she would
eat
me!'

Max took the stunning revelation well. His eyes widened a fraction, then he said to Olga, a little sternly, ‘Is this true?'

Olga shrugged and muttered, sulkily, ‘I not tell him I eat him, I just say has he heard stories about my people, how they supposed to eat children? He thinks then I will do this. But I will never because I am not –' she glared at Tomi ‘–
a wicked thing
. I am just werewolf from family Ironheart and never ever we hurt children –
never
–
no matter what silly stories you people in empire tell
.
'

Max said, wonderingly, ‘You are an
Ironheart
?'

She drew herself up. ‘Indeed. You hear of us?'

‘Of course. Yours is the greatest of the Ruvenyan werewolf clans, for your ancestor once saved the life of a Ruvenyan prince who became the most beloved of kings in your land, and ever since then the family Ironheart has been honoured in your country.'

There was a small silence, then Olga said, ‘You speak truth.'

I saw he'd touched a real nerve. She was going to help him anyway but now she would feel even more bound to him.

‘How you know this?' she said.

‘You hear about a lot of things at court,' he said quietly. ‘And don't forget, the Empress is from Ruvenya. Not everyone shares the official line on shapeshifters. In fact, there are more than a few people who would like things to change.' He looked at the child. ‘Including, I've heard, amongst your people, Tomi.'

‘Really?' he said, his eyes wide.

‘Really. I would
die
to preserve the honour of the Emperor and the integrity of the empire. And that being
so, I would never,
ever
associate with an enemy of the empire – and neither Olga nor Selena are that. That is the absolute truth. Do you believe me?'

Tomi looked at him, searchingly, looked at us, then finally nodded.

‘Thank you. So now I am asking you, on your honour as a Mancer, to give us your word that you will not try to escape till we can let you go.'

My eyes met Olga's, but we stayed absolutely silent, as Max and Tomi looked at each other, sizing up one another.

‘I give you my word,' said Tomi, softly, and they shook hands, solemnly, and once again I was strangely moved, though the more cynical part of me stood by and laughed. For the bond of a word of honour was one thing, and I understood and valued that myself, for it was the only thing that had kept me from betraying my mother's memory; but who could really believe the word of a Mancer, when lies and deception were part of their stock-in-trade? Well, and there was nothing to be done about it now one way or the other. As to what Max had said about himself, that was dismaying, for it showed he was a long way from accepting the truth about the empire. His attitude to magic and shapeshifters was considerably more liberal than most Faustinians, but he was still a believer in the – what had he called it? –
the honour of the Emperor and the integrity of the empire.
He still clung to that.